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Wolf Watching Lovers
Bloodeyes among the trees.
Waterwood broken;
an open split
of small life.
Steps out of tact,
tied. Tubular
breath that makes
leaves vellum.
So when the two
bend and coo
with a mouth full
of pigeons, you
pace and green
in the dark
strange with envy.
Copyright ©
Leslie Philibert
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